A Christmas Memory
by Unfinished Melody
Summary: [Shounen-ai][Ran/Omi][Omi's POV]Aya doesn't do children. Maybe a little trip to the mall will change his mind. Story by Jim-kun.


A Christmas Memory  
  
Rating: Minor shonen ai Disclaimer: No Weiss boy is a boy of mine. They belong to.Koyasu. You know? And that's not me or anything. So don't be.suing me or anything. And the title, "A Christmas Memory" is a short story by Truman Capote. Don't sue me for that either. And I don't own the Men's Wearhouse. Yeah.  
  
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Aya and I are going Christmas shopping. I made him come with me. I said I would cry. He said he didn't give a rat's ass. I said I'd break his katana. He said I didn't have the balls. So I stole his car keys and ran out the door. He ran after me.  
  
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By the time he gave up we'd already run to the mall. He thought it was a waste of breath to have run all the way down here when I could've taken his car if I had the keys. Or ridden my motorbike. I thought it was funny. So I grinned and tucked the keys in my back pocket. Aya wouldn't try to get them now. He won't touch my ass. I pat my back pocket, running my tongue along my bottom lip playfully. Lower my eyelids. Try to look alluring. To tease him. He just frowns and shoves me through the mall doors. Says he doesn't '*do* children'. Whatever that's supposed to mean. Aya doesn't do anything. And I'm not a child anymore. But I got him into the mall. And I feel like I climbed a mountain or something. Aya has a phobia of malls. I think it's funny. He doesn't like people. He doesn't like to be touched by them. He stays very close to me now. I notice the way he dodges people. He moves like a freaking cat. All curves. He's liquid to these people. Moves too quickly. Supple, lithe body sidestepping and inching aside. I watch him out of the corner of my eye. I try not to smile. We're shopping for eachother. I don't know why I would bring Aya with me since I'm just going to make him go away when I buy his present. But I did. I had to buy the other boys' presents too. And I knew Aya had not been out shopping. That's how he is. I'll force him into buying gifts this time. I don't need another tie. I don't wear ties. I wonder if it's supposed to be a joke. If it is, he should know it got tired. I don't want a bloody tie. Dammit. So this time I'll make sure he doesn't go anywhere *near* the Men's Wearhouse.  
  
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First stop, some sports shop. Ken had been dropping not-so-subtle hints all month. Keeps telling us that there's a little sports store in the mall. They sell all kinds of sports equipment, he says. And since he's back in soccer, not just playing with those kids, he needs some new equipment. He just hasn't had time, and of course he doesn't expect any of *us* to get him any. We don't know where it is, you know. So he writes directions (to himself, he claims) and tapes them to the fridge. We're in the sports shop. Aya is looking at soccer balls and I want to get Ken a new sports bag. His old one is bad. It's rancid. Smelling of old socks, grass, and sweat. Kind of like Aya's soup. I ask Aya what he thinks of one of the bags. A blue one. Adidas logo slapped on the side. Looks like the one Ken always has his sports catalog turned to and displayed on his chest when he falls asleep on the couch. Either he's very dense or he thinks we are. I poke Aya in side because he didn't look at the bag. He still isn't. I follow that violet gaze up to one of the many sport related posters plastered on the walls of the store. It's a back shot of a girl, running on the soccer field. She's got long, dark braids hanging down her back. I wonder what's so damn enthralling about girls and soccer. Guess the braids reminded him of his sister. I poke Aya again. Harder. He grunts and looks down at me, eyes vacant. I pull a soccer ball off the shelf, it looks like the same soccer ball that's next to the sports bag in the catalog, and put it in Aya's hands. I tell him to come on. We're done here. He nods absently and follows me. We pay for the stuff and leave.  
  
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Back into the super highway: the corridors of the mall. Who knew Saturdays the week before Christmas were so busy? We weren't out there for long. Aya and I are sucked down in the sea of screaming children and bitter mothers. I find an ivory hand with long, chilled fingers holding tightly onto mine. I turn my head slightly to look at Aya. He is holding my hand. Looking around a bit wildly at the fuss. He looks afraid. Looks like a child. I hold his hand tighter in mine, giving it a light squeeze, and duck into a dimly lit shop. Inside the air feels stuffy. I think of a line I heard in a movie once. "It's too damn sultry!" Ken liked that movie. It was supposed to be funny, I guess. I thought it was stupid. But it's sultry in there all the same. Aya isn't holding my hand anymore. I shove my hands into my pockets and pretend he never had. I look around at the contents of the shop. It looks like a Yohji shop. There're shirts with obscene little sayings on them. Kinds of sayings Yohji would doubtlessly find amusing. I'm examining a pair of flannel pajama pants with a big red target on the seat. Not for Yohji. He's not gay. I think. A shirt catches my eye as I set the pants down. It's a tight black cloth tank top thing. The word "SLUT" written across the chest. It was one of those girl's, baby doll shirts. If I gave it to Yohji, it would show his stomach. He would wear it. I took the shirt down, folding it and tucking it under my arm. I turned to look at Aya. He was looking at all the little shirt pins and such. I noticed a bag with the name of the shop in his hand. He'd already picked something up? I tapped his arm and asked what was in the bag. He opened it, showing me a pair of leather pants. They had clasps or something on various places. The tag read "BONDAGE PANTS". It sounded Yohji-ish. I nodded and grinned my approval, putting the slut shirt on the counter and paying. This stuff was expensive. Yohji liked expensive stuff. He'd love this stuff.  
  
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Next we have to split up. Buy gifts for eachother. Aya looks reluctant to leave my side. He must not want to be in this sea of people by himself. I pat his shoulder reassuringly and tell him we'll meet at the sport store in half an hour. He agrees. And hesitantly walks away. He has disappeared in the crowd in a matter of seconds. I can't even pick his hair out of the horde. I shrug and run in the opposite direction, pushing people out of my way. I've got half an hour to fight my way across the mall and buy his present.  
  
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We meet when we said we would. Half an hour later. We're both punctual and arrive at the same time. Aya looks flushed, kind of flustered. He must really hate crowds. I smile up at him anyways, holding the bag with his gift in it tight to my chest. He holds his bag close as well. I laugh, pulling his keys out of my back pocket and hold them in front of his face. He grabs them and growls. I begin to run, laughing, down the street towards "Koneko no Sumu Ie". A good ten blocks away. He follows me, trying to keep up. I think I hear him laugh. It was probably someone else.  
  
- - - - - - - - - -  
  
No one is in when he get home. The shop is closed today. We decided to play the 'every *other* worker gets at least two weeks of vacation, why don't we? That may make people suspect.' card on Persia. He wasn't happy. But he let it go. We need a break right? Yeah. Ken is out playing with those kids and Yohji is probably at the park. He feeds the ducks out there. He says it makes girls who walk out there think he's sophisticated and thoughtful. I say it makes them think he's an old, scary man. Especially when he wears that big, bulky coat and worn fedora. His excuse for that is it 'makes him look mysterious. Girls go in for mystery.' I ask if they also go in for creepy geezers who wear big coats and old hats all year and feed ducks. He just shakes his head and tells me I don't understand the female mind. I think Yohji's crazy sometimes. I really do. But it's dark and empty in the shop. I think I miss Yohji now. That familiar scent of expensive cologne and cheap cigarettes isn't even present. But Aya's here. So that's something. I shake my head and leave the shop. Aya follows. He and I head behind the shop, to our house. I fish out my set of keys and unlock the door. I walk into the darkened house with Aya behind me; he shuts the door after himself. First thing I do is run to my room and put Aya's gift in my closet, under a pile of clothes. Tight shirts and girlie shorts. I'd worn them on a dare once and had liked the feel. I feel like a queer when I wear that stuff. But it's comfortable. And I thought it might repel all those girls at the shop. I think it just turns them on more. Or something. They don't stop mobbing me anyways. But they make a good hiding place. Aya won't touch my clothes like he won't touch my ass. They're quite similar, my clothes and my ass. Tight and girlie. And Aya will only look, not touch. I smile to myself as I leave my room, giving my laptop an affectionate pat. I shut the door behind myself, stepping out into the hall. I bump into Aya. Christ.he's invisible sometimes. I blink and look up at him. He's looking down at me. I ask him what's up. He shrugs. I wonder if he feels uncomfortable with me up against him. It's a tight hall. Not much room for two people. He must not mind. He's not moving away. I lick my lips and smile up at him. I know the effect my smile has on people. I smiled once when I was in the bathroom. At the mirror. I wanted to know what I looked like. That smile. It looks innocent. Bright. Not sleepy like Yohji's, not overly warm and bashful like Ken's, and not a frown like Aya. I smile like a little kid. That does it for some people. Mostly it makes them happy. It makes girls swoon. Like they're in love with me. Then again when Aya scowls they swoon too. They practically collapse with orgasm if Yohji takes a drag off his cigarette. And they throw themselves all over Ken if he blushes. Ken always blushes. But I smile. And they like it when I smile. I think Aya likes it too. He's still looking at me. Something's happening in his mind, I guess. Violet eyes searching mine. I feel violated almost. Like he's ripping off my clothes to look at me. All of me. My soul even. That's foolish though. He's just looking at me. Just putting his hands on my back. Just leaning down. Just pressing his lips to mine. And just pushing me against the wall almost roughly. It's not like he's trying to tongue me.wait.yes he is. Fujimiya Aya's tongue is running over my lip. I, Tsukiyono Omi, am opening my mouth. Letting his tongue in. Letting his hands touch the small of my back and caress my sides. I don't want to say no to him. His hands are warm. His fingers are cold. His tongue is moist and merciless against mine. I feel him ravage my mouth; I respond. His hips are shoved savagely against mine. I squeak and feel a ragged moan escape my throat. He lets me go. Pulls away. Rests back against the opposite wall, wipes his mouth on the sleeve of his coat and watches me. I'm gasping softly. My lips feel swollen. My body burns from his touch. Do I want more? Of course I do. I want to feel lilac eyes ripping my soul and exposing me. I'm not a child anymore, dammit. He must see it now. He doesn't *do* children, I know. My gaze wanders aimlessly over his body before they settle on his eyes. I must look hungry. Starving for him. He reaches out, a long, pale hands brushing back my bangs and touching my temple. I watch him, my lips parting just a bit at the warm stroke. He asks what I want. I answer quietly. I don't even know what I said. It must have pleased him. Because he smiled and took my hand. We went downstairs, past the kitchen, into the living room. He sat on the couch and pulled me down with him. I sat beside him and leaned against his shoulder, resting my head against it. He was running his thumb over my wrist and fingering my hair. He was murmuring quietly. Whispering in my ear. He called me Aya chan. His sister? I felt a sigh swell in my throat, but swallowed it quickly. I just leaned against Aya, holding his left hand with both of mine. Let him live his illusion. I didn't care anymore. As long as he didn't think of me as a child. - - - - - - - - - - End By Jim-Kun 


End file.
